


Forever Dilating Eye

by greenaleydis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Contracts, Desk Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Forbidden Love, Office Sex, Public Sex, Romance, Smut, Unspeakable Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 09:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenaleydis/pseuds/greenaleydis
Summary: Draco should have known better than to get involved with one of Granger's notorious experiments for the Department of Mysteries. In any case, he'd never view portkeys the same way. Written for Strictly Dramione's Valentines Smut Fest.





	Forever Dilating Eye

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the lift, making his way towards his office. The Ministry was dull today, with management and workers alike barely awake as the three-o'clock blues hit. Some people were talking excitedly as he passed, holding flowers or chocolate or gossiping about their plans for the evening, but for the most part everyone was heads down at their desks, jaws in hand, mouths barely containing drool. Draco didn't know if it was the International Trade Office in particular or if it was the entire workforce, but he had a feeling that he wasn't the only one who didn't have a date tonight.

Valentine's Day was usually his day to go home and drink brandy in front of the fire, have a good wank, then go to sleep early, so he wasn't nearly as bitter as some people he passed. Technically he _did_  have plans; they just didn't include anyone else.

In the distance he could make out a shoulder and connecting leg of a woman standing in his office, apparently reading something. He checked his watch; his previous meeting had gone over quite a bit and he was already late for a last-minute meeting from the Department of Mysteries.

As he neared, he got a better view of what awaited him: leaning against his wide desk was an ornery Hermione Granger, her arms spread as she leaned back expectantly. Draco let his eyes linger for a moment, vaguely noticing that her hair was down, something he usually didn't see.

"Granger," Draco said, stepping through the door, his eyebrows furrowed. "You set up this meeting?"

"Yes, and you're late," she replied. "That gives us only eighteen minutes."

He held up his palms innocently. "The International Trade Office is going through a re-org. I had to answer a lot of questions."

The former Gryffindor didn't seem satisfied by this excuse, but nodded in acknowledgment; there was a yellowed copy of _Witch Weekly_ open in her grip, the pages so old that the color was faded, the reds of the women's lips brighter than their powder pastel robes and high hair. Was it from the 50's?

Draco gestured at the magazine. "Doing a little reading while you wait?"

He squinted; it was open to a spread of dated romance tips and whimsical illustrations of young couples side-by-side, enjoying large sundaes or seated at quidditch stands. The tips were all organized in neat rows, with checkmarks and crosses next to some, crudely made with magic; some of the marks were still glowing.

"That list is _ancient_ ," Draco scoffed, leaning away. "What makes you think any of those things actually work?"

"I  _don't_  think they work," Granger retorted, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips as she tossed the magazine aside. "But nevertheless it contains some ideas worth exploring."

“The ‘old magic of love’ is said to be strongest today,” Draco quipped, his voice mockingly sweet, "so some of them have a shot. Have any tossers you’re wasting the day on?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just you, Malfoy. I’ve got this meeting, then I’m done for the day.”

"Always so busy," he tutted playfully. "So what can I do for the Mysteries of the Brain program today?"

"I've recently changed programs," she replied with a hint of a smirk. "But I need help with an experiment. Help that you are uniquely positioned to provide."

"Uniquely positioned," Draco echoed, crossing back to his office door and snapping it closed. "I see."

"I've brought the necessary contract." She reached behind her to take hold of a parchment roll on his desk. She'd apparently already made herself at home in his office. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Please don't try to read all of it, as we only have..." she checked her watch, "thirteen minutes."

He'd heard tales of her wild experiments, read about her research in the _Prophet_ , but hadn't been contacted to help her with anything recently. His previous contributions to the Department of Mysteries were mostly monetary, but she made it sound like she needed his _help_ , not necessarily his wallet or his contact book.

He took her offered quill and scanned the parchment, straining to read the cramped text between each section. It was nearly twice the length of the previous agreement he'd signed, and he picked up on odd phrases - 'damages incurred,' 'loss of livelihood'... 'emotional scarring'? What did _that_ mean?

"Do I need to have my lawyer look over this, Granger?" he asked, glancing at her. 

"I think you'll find that it's the standard Department of Mysteries confidentiality agreement."

He sighed, placing the parchment down and readying the quill.

"And what of my previous agreement, for connecting the researchers on the Wizard Genome Project?" he asked, signing his name at the bottom with a flourish.

"That contract is still valid, just not for my program."

He paused, his quill still blotting the 'y' in his surname.

"What program are you in again?" he asked quietly.

When she didn't answer immediately, he looked up at her; her arms were crossed over her chest, her lips turned up in a smirk.

"The Mysteries of Love program," she replied.

Sweat inexplicably broke under Draco's collar, and his brows furrowed as his attention was once again drawn to the woman leaning against his desk. Other things suddenly stood out to him - the fact that she was sporting taller heels than he'd ever seen her wear, and that she wasn't wearing her reading glasses... but he brushed the strange things away.

"So this _does_ have to do with the rag, then," he muttered. He sighed heavily as he picked up the discarded magazine, flipping back to the marked page.   

Granger said nothing, just waited.

Draco scanned the list, but anything his eyes settled on was too ridiculous to entertain in the modern world. In fact, most of it bordered on downright sexist - 'clean up for your man'? What the hell?

"‘How to land a husband,' ugh, what tosh," he muttered, closing the thing again and tossing it back onto his desk. "So what, are you here to ask me if these tips work?"

"You know Malfoy, we really better hurry, as we now have only ten minutes," Hermione sighed.

"Ten minutes until what?" he asked. "You scheduled this meeting for the whole hour. That gives us almost thirty extra minutes."

She leaned back, tilted her head to the side, and said, "You have ten minutes to make me come."

Silence claimed the chilled office. Draco became aware of a ticking sound, though how he heard it through the ringing in his ears he wasn't sure. Everything beyond the ticking had to be muffled in fact, because he couldn't possibly have heard her correctly, or understood what she meant.

He swallowed, opting for obtaining clarification. "Excuse me?"

He expected a proper response, something like, 'What I meant was...' followed by a lengthy explanation that had nothing to do with coming, or sex, or her new program that was possibly the most mysterious of all.

But then the straps of her jumpsuit slid off her shoulders, and the falling fabric revealed her body like a parting curtain.

Draco took a step back, knowing that his eyes were the size of galleons, because if they weren't deceiving him he had a woman he'd known since he was eleven years old, standing in his office, wearing only a lacey bra-panty set and heels.

His heart was thumping, and for a moment he could feel blood filling his limbs, descending through thin channels, rushing up to his head, and a dozen thoughts harassed him - why was she doing this, was his door locked, had he remembered to wash behind his ears that morning, had she always looked like that -

Before Draco even began to accept that he wasn’t befuddled and he really did have Hermione Granger half naked on his desk, her hand drifted down, skimming over her breast, following the cleft down her abs, over her navel, until her fingers were stretching the lacey fabric of her knickers, her knuckles visible as they poked through.

"Are you... imperioused right now?" Draco choked out.

She shook her head, her lips parting as she continued making circles with her fingers.

"Confunded?" he tried again. "Bribed, blackmailed? _Obliviated?_ "

She shook her head, painfully slow, her eyes boring into him, but he couldn't help but look down at the movement of her hand beneath that triangle of lace.

"Draco," she murmured, her voice hitching, and a delightful shiver rippled through him; hearing his given name on her lips, colored with pleasure, was powerfully erotic. "Don't make me do this by myself."

And then he saw it - there was a challenge in her eyes, a dare for him to join her. He was already watching her pleasure herself on his desk, the new seating chart for his department wrinkling under her thigh. The audacity of it, that she could just strip and entice him like this, use him for her experiment, was bizarre and downright mad.

But a small part of him perked up, as he realized that this strange meeting was easily better than his solitary - okay, maybe lonely - plans for the evening.

In fact, if her experiment was to see if he could make her come in ten minutes, then she picked the right man.

Hell, he'd do it in five.

"Eight minutes," she murmured, and Draco's eyes refocused to discover her fingers moving faster.

Mouth dry, hands suddenly shaking, he took a cautious step towards her, as though any movement would shatter this dream, and his shadow caught the edges of her frame. 

“You _want_  me to touch you?” he asked uncertainly. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she exasperated, “Come on Malfoy, you don't need legilimency to figure this out.”

He was now close enough to feel her exhales on his chest. It was real now: her body was hot, waves of heat radiating fresh from her exposed skin like an open fire, tiny hairs raised on her belly.

He reached forward and placed a single finger on her leg; her skin should have felt odd, but it just felt soft and inviting, like what he expected a woman's skin to feel like. If he hadn’t known it was Hermione Granger standing in front of him, would he really have hesitated?

He slid his hand over her exposed knee, and her leg rose in response, providing a descending plane for his touch down to the base of her thigh. He smoothed his hand back up, trying to acclimate to this skin, overpower his aversion towards this woman.

"This is ludicrous," he muttered.

"And yet, here we are," she replied, her voice like silk as her other hand was suddenly smoothing over his button up and down his abs, trailing past the tuck, over the waistband of his trousers. He knew she was serious then; there was no hesitation to her touch, no cautious exploration. She was touching him like it was normal, like she _wanted_ to.

She wasn't enticing him just for the sake of science, she was actively enjoying this exhibitionary delight, squirming on his desk against her own touch.  

His abs were against her other hand now, and he could feel her fingers move, swirling beneath the damp lace, her breath on his neck. 

"I have to know the purpose of this experiment," he murmured, his voice dropping out of respect for his companion's proximity as he traced a line up her skin.

“I’ve already told you what you need to do."

“Just tell me... is _this_ ,” he clenched her skin for emphasis, “in the interest of science... or love?"

Her smirk returned. "Six minutes," she whispered, her voice feathering over him, and for a moment he could hear the ticking of Granger's imaginary clock that seemed so important to her.

He experimentally cupped her breast, and her intake of breath was intoxicating, melting his resolve as he tried to bridge the sheer lunacy of his predicament and the utter delight in the sudden sex; this wasn't a dream, wasn't a fantasy, but he was still touching her exploratorily like this vision would vanish.

Emboldened by her response, he squeezed her breasts, then smoothed his hands around her waist and gripped her plump arse, and it was more than enough for him; having Hermione Granger's unseen and somewhat forbidden curves under his hands was easily wondrous. 

“Oh _hell_ yes," he breathed finally, both hands smoothing down her body and lifting her further onto the desk; the control she'd been dangling over him was now in his grasp, and he captured her lips, pulling her waist against him. 

She wasn't enticing him anymore; now her hands were everywhere, pulling his shirt apart as Draco worked on the hook of her bra, freeing her breasts from the black lace.

"Take this off," she breathed, pulling out his tie in quick pulls, “take it _all_ off - " and he obliged, ripping his tie and shirt away. He couldn't discover her body fast enough, couldn't touch enough of her skin, and so his hands were just grasping and smoothing up and down as she gripped him with her legs, edges of their bodies catching on remaining fabric as they strained out of it.

She reached back and grasped at his desk, scattering quills and parchment and knocking a forgotten coffee mug to the polished stone, but Draco didn't even flinch as it shattered and sprayed the deep black tiles, because her body was just endless palmfuls of soft bliss... how could he have known what he was missing beneath her frumpy robes, sensible business attire that spoke nothing of who she was underneath?

He resolved to enjoy this bizarre Valentine's Day surprise until Granger's mysterious timer expired; her breath was hot in his mouth, and Draco felt he knew enough to really do this, actually shag her properly, put her over the edge in her ridiculous time frame, for the sake of science.

Draco pushed her circling hand away, sliding a wet trail over her belly, and then her panties were like lacey ropes against her legs as he dragged them down; he was desperately hard and he needed to feel her, needed to bless her body with better pleasure than she was giving herself, better than anyone had given her before.

He was determined, her imaginary timer ticking behind his eyelids as he grasped her leg, steadying her body as she raked her nails over the waistband of his trousers, and this was really happening now, he was pressing and she was so slick it was like heaven, and his hard length was unyielding as he slid forward -

“ _Granger_ ,” he gasped, his head dropping to her shoulder, breath heating her skin, “you’re so - ”

"Four minutes," she breathed, and hearing the pleasure in her voice was drugging; he could almost _feel_ her desire, feel that his body was a pleasant surprise... whatever doubt that existed moments before melted away.  All he knew now was the hot center of her body, taking him in bit by bit, and he couldn't help but gasp at the sudden predicament of fucking her like this, her bare arse pressed to lacquered mahogany, her nails gripping wood... and then he was just sliding back and forth, filling her and spreading her around him. He watched as her eyes reopened and settled on his, that sultry challenge still there as she exhaled, her legs shaking around his hips. 

He wanted to touch her everywhere, soak up her pleasure through touch; the shock of it energized him, and he found himself still grasping at her, squeezing her hips, feeling the muscles under her skin. A sudden shift as his companion hooked an arm around his neck changed the tone however - he remembered that though he wanted to enjoy this, his purpose had a deadline, and Draco leaned forward so he could control a harder rhythm.

"Two - ah - minutes," Hermione murmured, her breath catching as the force of his momentum reverberated throughout her body. Part of the pleasure was watching her breathe, watching her moan; he wanted that breath, and he captured her lips for a moment before her gasps filled his mouth as he thrust harder. He couldn't help it, she was turning it into a game with her constant reminder of the time, even her moans were mirroring the ticking of her countdown.

A blush bloomed in the center of her chest to match the rosy blush on her cheeks, the plump berry of her lips as she drew them into her mouth, wetting them; Draco didn't think he'd wanted anything more than watching her love this, feeling the depths of her body, and knowing that he was well on his way to completing her task -

"Thirty seconds," she breathed, "You're doing _so_ good - ah, _don't stop_ \- "

He was already barely holding together, but he was determined to give her what she wanted, to elicit pleasure from her more and more, watch her beg for his body to release her. She was so tight and sweet that he couldn't help himself anyway, he had to keep moving, had to feel her again and again... now he was hammering her with slick thrusts, so hard his thighs were hitting the desk over and over, and the rhythmic slapping of their skin set the tempo for her moans; the idea of her pleasure as she gasped and shook, of her wanting him to go faster was forbidden music in his ears. Even as he sped up he could feel her rocking with the force of it -

" _Five seconds,_ " she gasped wildly. " _Fuck,_ Draco - "

And then her voice was nothing but unintelligible sounds, and Draco didn’t think he’d ever fucked anyone this fast and hard, but he was desperate to watch her come, he wanted it more than anything, and that vision became real as her head fell back, and he was so close, the tight warmth of her body was so perfect -

He watched her mouth open, her eyes roll shut, and his own body was taught, the crescendo of sensation building, and he was tensing for it, ready for it to boil over -

And just as he was spilling, he suddenly felt a jerking pull against his navel that surely wasn't his orgasm, but the force of it catalyzed his desire, and out of impulse he grasped Hermione's back; he was spinning with ecstasy, light exploding around him, electrifying his senses, and his eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure erupted.

He had nothing but sensation left, just light and color, a kaleidoscope of feeling, fractals of infinite rapture and skin and honey-brown eyes, curly hair that refracted light like the edges of a crystal.

A hazy confusion pervaded him, and somewhere in the back of his mind Draco thought: this wasn't an orgasm, it couldn't be. It was too powerful, too sensory. Could it really feel so amazing?

His senses fought through the euphoria to stay grounded, try to divorce the shaking and spinning from the tidal wave of pleasure... and the spinning halted then, and he realized that the air was different, not the stiff air of his office but a cool breeze, he could feel it brush against his sweat-flushed skin, his puckered muscles as he came into her.

He opened his eyes, and they settled on Granger's face, but if his eyes weren't deceiving him they weren't in his office; they were actually in the middle of a restaurant, and his witch was perched on a marble table, not a desk, her knees hugging his sides as she screamed.

He couldn't be sure if it was real, what he was seeing, because how could it be? But then the room exploded with noise as people launched out of their seats and cutlery and plates flew in every direction, smashing in slow motion. Draco's eyes rolled as he began to spin again, and the world was nothing but sparks and color, like the center of a tornado.

Draco realized he was crying out in both ecstasy and alarm as the world around him rushed by, twirling again as though it had never stopped, a kaleidoscope of sound and furious light.

His vision cleared with a sudden whip of frigid air; a cold wind flayed his naked back, and they were falling now, a vast, lush valley below them and the landscape so open and majestic that Draco could see where the sky met the horizon in every direction - they were _falling_ , and falling fast, the ground was coming up to meet them at any second, any second he'd be dead -

As his heart jolted with fear, his pleasure doubled, and the beauty of the valley mirrored the parting of Hermione's lips, the gloss of her eyes, and as her hair whipped around him he could see his own reflection in pupils that opened like a black hole... but then there was nothing but nebulas of color again as they spun, not dead but very much alive, possibly more alive than he'd ever been.

Draco struggled to keep his eyes from rolling as he held firmly to what he hoped was reality, trying to focus on what was happening, and with a small burst of effort his vision cleared - he was now shaking in the middle of a cozy room surrounded by figures.

To the people standing in the apartment, the orgasmic pair must have only appeared for a second, but to Draco it felt like an eternity; he could see the ecstasy on Hermione Granger's face in slow motion, her head thrown back and curls whipping; just behind her was more than a dozen gaping people, variations of shock on their faces; the woman closest to them was holding her hand to her mouth in astonishment, but Draco saw her eyes dilate slowly with acute awareness as the moment stretched on. As the scene ripped away, he could have sworn he saw her other hand drift over her breast, but then he was spinning and the pleasure was explosive as Hermione thrust against him, her knees squeezing his ribs.

Hermione  _wanted_ them to see her pleasure desperately, Draco could see it in the upturn of her lips, the furrowing of her brows, and the triumphant gasp as they spun away was electrifying to his system, that she could be proud of them together, so bold as to want others to see it, but Draco could barely process a sudden elation before his knees were pressed into familiar fabric, and a soft mid-afternoon light blinded him, resetting his vision. Billowing curtains, opulent furniture, a deep blue Turkish rug - he'd know the familiar shapes around him anywhere.

It was impossible, it _had_ to be, but they were now in _his bedroom_.

His eyes rolled back into focus; seeing Hermione Granger nestled in his silken sheets, mouth wide and eyes clenched shut was utterly beautiful, with her flushed breasts shaking beneath him, body arching in sweet agony.

And a warm feeling flooded his being, mixing with the pleasure as it pulsed again, and he realized that he was still coming inside of her -

He didn't know what else to do, it was sensory overload, and so Draco just clutched at the woman entwined with him, held onto her as the world shook and flashed; the only real thing now was her and her pleasure, the heavy weight of her body squeezing him, and the light as it illuminated his eyelids.

Finally the wind stopped, the lightning cracking into silence except for his and his witch's breathy gasps of air.

Draco's hand slid off Hermione's back to connect with hard, cold stone. He shakily touched the ground beside him, and was relieved to feel the familiar marble tiles of his office. He could sense the condensation already forming under his back as Hermione shook on top of him, her breasts sliding against his chest as she gasped for breath.

He couldn't lift his limbs, they were like jelly, entirely unresponsive to commands; any attempt to move was entirely in vain. Draco settled for focusing on his breath and his eyelids, weighed down by fatigue.

“You... did so... _fucking_... good,” Hermione gasped, her lips sliding against his cheek as she pressed wet kisses to the corner of his mouth.  

"How many portkeys was that?!" Draco exasperated, his breath hoarse on her sweat-speckled skin. “Fucking hell - ”

“Just a few,” she breathed.

"Were you... going to _tell_ me... that we would be portkeying... all over existence?" he stormed, straining to lift his head and peer down his body at her.

"I said... you had ten minutes," she answered.

His head thunked back onto the cold stone, and he found himself coughing as his neck throbbed. He breathed in and out, trying to make sense of anything.

“Draco... now be honest, as this is for the report... how do you feel?”

He wheezed a chuckle; completely shattered was the true answer. It was unclear if he came more than once or if his orgasm had just been drawn out over what seemed like a lifetime, but he knew that he’d _never_  experienced anything close to that pleasure, so intense it was painful, so vibrant he felt like his soul had been flayed. He didn’t know an orgasm could _be_ like that, like being melted over and over, squeezed for more pleasure like a ripe fruit, exploding with feeling and emotion... his whole _body_ was shaking.

Even now he felt like the world was still spinning, still chaos, and the only anchor was the woman wrapped around him, whose body still engulfed him in silky heaven, her legs slick and quivering around his hips.

With a burst of energy, Draco hugged her body, chest still heaving, face buried in her curls, hands grasping at her back.

"Like... you're my center of _gravity_ ," he gasped finally.

He watched the light reflect off her curls and vaguely wondering how he felt like he knew so much about her, like they'd somehow crammed a year of dating into less than a minute... but he was speechless with the care that flowed through him, the wonder at the human on top of him.

"Fantastic," she replied, not moving.

“So when can I see you again?” he asked breathlessly, his hands sliding over her back, clutching her to him. “Do you really have no plans tonight?”

She chuckled, her breath hot against his neck for a moment, and then she sat up abruptly and stood, leaving his body on the floor beneath her as she stretched.

"Absolutely fantastic," she said again, more to herself, and then bent to retrieve her bra and knickers.

Draco sat up with some effort, his muscles still fatigued, eyes heavy.

"We could go to this new restaurant on the water," he put forth, "they make the most amazing cocktails and I know the owner. It might be packed tonight, but they have an all-human staff - I know you care about things like that - and I can swing a table. Then we can take a walk by the water, there's an art opening by Whitechapel Station - " and Draco continued rambling as he tried to pull his pants on, sliding the fabric over his shaking legs; by the time he succeeded, he looked up at Granger and his voice died.

She was making notes on her magazine with a quill. As the silence dragged on, she looked up, seeming to realize that he wasn't talking, and she sighed, her weight falling to one hip. Draco's gaze unwillingly dropped to her body, now clad in her lacey set and heels once more.

“I’ll send you a copy of the report when it comes out,” she said finally.

“Granger... Hermione,” he gasped, struggling to get up, using the edge of his desk for support. “Why me... why?” 

And he was desperate now, desperate to hear an answer to every facet of that question - why him, why now, why the sex, why the portkeys -

"Because I needed to try this on someone who doesn't love me, doesn't even like me," she replied. "Only then would I know if it really worked." She discarded the quill and removed her wand from her arm holster. Draco watched as she used it to mark a green checkmark on the magazine.

“If what worked? The orgasm thing?”

She gave him a private smile, not so different from her earlier smirk as she'd removed her clothes, but now she was pulling up the straps of her jumpsuit, hiding her lace-covered breasts from view. She stepped towards him, and for an electric moment Draco thought she was going to kiss him with those beautiful lips he'd never appreciated before, never wanted as much as he did right now... but she simply leaned around him and retrieved the rolled-up contract from his desk, lingering for a moment.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Malfoy," she murmured into his neck, her breath reawakening shivers of pleasure; Draco's knees buckled, and he had to clutch the polished wood behind him to remain upright as Hermione stepped away, gave him another smile, and exited his office.

Draco stared at the closed door, trying to process what happened, his body still shaking, still confused and yearning for the woman whose heels were clicking down the corridor. He already had half-formed ideas of sending her owls, visiting the café he knew she frequented in the hopes of seeing her, and maybe, just _maybe_ , being able to feel her body again, see her nestled in his sheets again, make her come again...

It was weeks later when he got his hands on that edition of _Witch Weekly_ and found the list. He tore into it, eyes scanning the archaic tips, until he arrived at number twenty-eight:

' _To woo a man, one might consider switching apartments from time to time. A surprise change in scenery is sure to keep your love interest on their toes._ '

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to LaBelladoneX for betaing. The original prompt for the story: change apartments from time to time.


End file.
